


Here I Am (Right Behind You)

by nikuy



Series: Hard and Fast (It's A Roller-coaster Ride) [5]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fetish Clothing, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-15 15:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikuy/pseuds/nikuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It might be Mesut's hardest time in Madrid so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-ed, blah blah...  
> All lie, blah blah...
> 
> I did not watch the game with Deportivo, so I mostly imagined what happened at the game. Also, screw the proper timeline. I know nothing but their extremely busy schedule lately (I was flailing over that Serzil piece Marca wrote and suddenly read that they were already in Amsterdam; seriously, those boys...). 
> 
> Also, I noticed that this might be Mesut's hardest season with Madrid. Poor baby. Sergio really is an angel for his honesty and support, I thought it was impossible to love him more than I already have. I had the most annoying writer's block a few days ago and suddenly, TA-DAH! God bless Sergio Ramos.
> 
> Anyway, at first I thought this is going to be longer than usual, but I guess I'll divide it into two chapters maximum. I hope you guys enjoy!

The cheers and chants from the tribune were deafening, but Mesut could hear Mourinho’s angry shouts at him from across the pitch, beckoning him to come off. He had learnt how to put the sounds off but his coach’s, he had never felt so devastated to do the only thing his body instinctively learnt. He pressed his eyes close as he slowly walked towards his angry coach, his head hanged low and he couldn’t hide his disappointment even from Kaka who gave him a sympathetic yet determined look on his face. He gave him a pat on his shoulder before he went on and a crew gave him a towel. Mourinho cursed under his breath, it followed him even to the bench where he pulled his jersey off and put the jacket another crew gave him on.

 

He watched as the rest of his teammate fought on the pitch from the bench (he chose the one in the back particularly), it wasn’t even the end of the first half yet and he tried hard back there. He could not fight the scowl on his forehead, but he trusted Mourinho’s opinion. Maybe a little more than he respected the man. He wiped his face with the towel and drank half a bottle of mineral water in one go, the scowl never did leave. He felt like to pour the water on his head to cool it off; maybe he should hit the shower, then maybe…

 

“Hey,” Sergio suddenly plopped down on the seat next to him, his hand went to the younger one’s thigh and Mesut did not mind since he knew the front benches had been doing a good job hiding their sometimes indecency at times like this. “Are you okay?”

 

Sergio’s soft voice called him out of the pitch fully, body and soul, and he turned his head to him with a thin smile. “Yeah, babe, I’m okay.”

 

“ _El Mister_ is being extra bitchy lately, don’t take it to the heart.” The Spaniard whispered, his hand was running on the German’s thigh reassuringly.

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Take it easy then. I know you can do better than that and you can show him alright.” He patted Mesut’s knee and smiled to cheer him up.

 

Mesut only snorted, “I did my best every single time, you know. I can’t believe you actually said that.” He crossed his arms with a sarcastic smile, rolling his eyes.

 

“I said what is true. I _am_ rooting for you after all.” Sergio didn’t look surprised at Mesut’s antics no longer lately, he knew better than to add fuel to the fire. “Hey. Baby. Stop that.”

 

“What?” Mesut glared at him.

 

“As much as I love your pout and tiny little scowl, I’d rather see them when you’re feeling good underneath me.” Sergio grinned; he knew his magic worked. Mesut chuckled a little at that but he still gave him his cold shoulders.

  
“ _Ramos_!” Mourinho practically shouted his name and both boys turned to him and found his back facing them, “Warm up!”

 

Mesut sank on his seat into a giant pouting heap it did things to Sergio who was unzipping his own jacket. The older man seemed to consider something and muttered ‘fuck it’ before he grabbed Mesut’s used jersey and took his jacket off. Mesut looked at him as he took his own jersey off, eyes twinkling at the sight of the handsome Spaniard’s abs and tattoos before the man put on an unbearably tighter jersey on. _Mesut’s jersey._

 

The German’s eyes widened and he sat back up, “What the fuck!?” he hissed as Sergio put his own jersey back on, wincing in both disgust and worry. He could never understand how someone would want to put on a jersey after a good 40 minutes of use, that thing would be drenched in sweat, bacteria, and wouldn’t smell good at all. “Are you insane!?”

 

“What?” Sergio looked at him with that stupidly attractive grin of his. Mesut could actually see his own jersey through Sergio’s. They both were the biggest perverts he had ever known in his life, but it was still too weird to see such a thing.

 

“That’s…fucking dirty! And smelly! _Ach_ , _Gott_ , you’re _sick_! Take it off!”

 

Sergio gave him a look, “We had sex, Mes. Though it doesn’t make your dirty jersey smells good at all, how come something I do still disgusts you, seriously?”

 

“It’s not only that, _idiota_!” Mesut growled but his face flushed hard, “You’ve had problems with Mou before. He _warned_ you!”

 

“Chill. He knows what kind of a person I am. It’s not about him anyway, it’s about you.” He winked, “If I scored, then it’d be for you.”

 

“ _¡Estás demente!_ ” Mesut was astonished.

 

Sergio only chuckled and jogged off.

 

*

 

They won, but Sergio did not score. Mourinho scolded him for acting up and he only gave a sheepish shrug, but Mesut believed he had proved himself worthy of Mourinho’s time. He saw how Sergio charged, tried to control every single dead-ball with his name and number flashed from underneath the defender’s own name and number on his back. The media were in flame upon noticing it, they questioned it a lot to Sergio and some even had enough guts to actually address it as a mutiny against Mourinho. They really loved drama. It was actually somewhat nice that none of them seemed to think that Sergio did it merely because of they were fucking.

 

It was excruciating for Mesut that he could not touch the Spaniard straight away afterwards (it was _still_ slightly disgusting, but to smell himself on Sergio was weirdly arousing) because they were way too tired and every pair of eyes were scrutinizing them. What was more devastating was that they had to catch the flight to Amsterdam and train more only a day after. The fact that they couldn’t get their hands on each other was more than distressing that Mesut could not even find even a tinge of guilt when he practically pushed Sergio into the fire exit when he saw the man on the hotel’s hallway and wantonly ground his groin against the older man’s. It was even weirder when Sergio put his finger on his swollen, wet lips and shushed him softly. Mesut was even more bewildered when Sergio pushed him off very gently that it did not hurt his feelings though his mind went chaotic. He had never felt like this before, he _needed_ this man. _Now_.

 

“Easy, baby. Calm down.” The Spaniard whispered gently as he delved his fingers into Mesut’s hair, slightly damp and smelt like fresh fruits or flowers, he did not know which one but it always turns him on. He had been sporting a rather massive problem down there too, but he did not seem to be as troubled as Mesut was and the German found it unfair.

 

“Don’t ‘calm down’ me!” Mesut hissed, “Please, baby, come on…just a quickie. I know I’m gonna’ be benched anyway. Please.”

 

“No.” Sergio half-heartedly shook his head and cupped his face, “You have to focus, Mes. Even if you’re gonna’ be benched, you’re gonna’ be benched to watch the game precisely and do your magic all over again.”

 

Mesut whimpered; he looked as if he was going to burst with tears. Sergio had _never_ said no to him, _ever_. Now that he needed him the most, he decided it was the right time to do so. He knew the Spaniard said the truth, though, but he just wanted to refuse the work of his logic at the moment. It was unfair. Sergio was being unfair. Mourinho was making it difficult. He hated it.

 

“You’re right.” Mesut took a deep breath to control himself and he shuddered, “But I need you.” He bit his lower lip. It was ridiculous, he was aware of it, to actually beg like this but it was not it. It was not just sex though it was the only thing he could think of at the moment.

 

“Mes-“

 

“I’ll go down on you, okay?” Mesut looked up to him, his eyes were teary and big. He did not know what came over him; Sergio never lied even to the public. He practically rephrased what he told the German before to be seen by everyone all over the world; it felt almost surreal when Mesut heard about his little clarification on the internet. It had been an emotional season for him and he couldn’t feel more supported than he was right now, by the most gorgeous man he knew standing on earth. He was quick to fondle Sergio’s cock through his sweat pants and pressed a kiss on his lips, “This is not a payback, I assure you.”

 

Sergio could not find his own voice as Mesut kneeled down before him and kissed the prominent bulk on his crotch, made him hiss at the slight sensation. He found this somewhat more erotic than usual, the way Mesut gently tugged his pants and boxers down was almost divine. In different situations, he might just fuck that pretty little mouth of his right away, but he waited. He endured. The look on Mesut’s face was unreadable; his lips parted slightly at the sight of the thick, reddish shaft in front of him, his cheeks flushed bright pink, his breath labored, but his eyes were so gentle on him.

 

Slowly, Mesut wrapped his fingers around the Spaniard’s thick rod, felling him pulsing underneath his touch, and ran his hot, wet tongue all over the downside of it. Sergio took a deep breath and tried to keep his eyes open to watch the gorgeous German on his knees, licking his cock thoroughly; putting pressures here and there where he knew would make Sergio’s knees wobble. He started to loll the tip with his tongue, caressing the slit lightly with his teeth and moaned as he tried to work the shaft into his mouth, swirling his tongue around. Sergio tasted wonderful, he smelt so good that it made his head spin and his own cock twitch within its confines.

 

Sergio moved a hand behind Mesut’s head, his fingers combing the smooth strands. Mesut started to suck lightly and he growled. Mesut pulled his lips back up and nipped on his tip, giving more suction from time to time and lapped the leaking crown slowly. He was enjoying this, Sergio could see that. He understood Mesut’s need to touch him, he had been dying to feel the German in the past few days too but he needed to give the younger man some space to think and concentrate. He was worried ever since Mesut started to get benched, he felt like the German needed more support lately and he just wanted to give him some space to breath, but there he was, choking the beau with his cock.

 

It was always a wonder for him to watch Mesut’s tiny lips to stretch around his thick cock as he took him inch by inch. It was a beautiful thing to see the German trying to please him a well as he could. His nose was almost brushing with Sergio’s thin hair on the base when he felt himself hitting the back of the younger man’s throat. He gasped and gripped on Mesut’s hair, the younger man hummed and sent shiver up to his spine. He was so gorgeous and amazing, but he should wait. He let Mesut to take him in his own pace and the German started to bob his head. It was so slick, so hot, his tiny hums and moans were so hot that Sergio had to open his eyes again (he didn’t realize when did he close them) and started moving to Mesut’s pace.

 

Mesut moaned and his face turned redder. He tried not to choke himself, but his tastebuds were all drowned in the erotic taste of Sergio’s. It was so hot, he was practically leaking though he did not touch himself and got a safe grip on Sergio’s hips. He moved his head back and forth, letting the older man to fuck his mouth and followed the pace Sergio picked up. He felt his lips grew numb and stretched; he was taking him deeper than he usually did but he didn’t care. His own cock jolted each time Sergio hit the back of his throat, every time the man’s juice smeared on his tongue, and he closed his eyes when Sergio finally took a more stable hold on his head.

 

“Oh, fuck…” Sergio growled as Mesut did more wonders with his enticing tongue. “I…I’m coming…” he warned.

 

The German surprisingly pulled off and replaced his mouth his warm, soft hand. “P-please,” he whimpered, “come. Fucking come for me.” His own body tensed at the thought and the words that slid out of his mouth, his cock twitched.

 

“Fuck, Mes…!”

 

Sergio threw his head back and all he could see for a mere second was white as he was overcame by the amazing orgasm as he spewed out his seeds. It was so hot, so amazing that he had to lean onto the wall for support. He was startled by Mesut’s a little high-pitched cry yet it took him five seconds more to recover and open his eyes. To see that he just came on his teammate’s face that was reddish, wet with tears, and positively blissful was something he did not expect. He found his translucent milky seeds on Mesut’s left eyelid, his cheeks, some was dripping down his chin, and some actually got past his lips. The boy had his eyes closed for a few seconds; his body was tense. Sergio knew well what just happened and he almost couldn’t believe it until he noticed the damp mess on the front of Mesut’s sweat pants. He gaped, heavily breathing. He reached out for Mesut’s beautiful face and wiped the semen off of the boy’s eyelid to let him open his eyes, lips still parted but his breath started to even.

 

Mesut looked up at him, a glob of come just dripped down his chin as he did. His hand hadn’t stopped moving on Sergio’s soft cock. He looked at it momentarily before he bent closer to lick the head clean, eyes still locked with Sergio’s.

 

The Spaniard took a deep, heavy breath. He helped the boy up to his feet; he was still weak on the knees and he supported his body with an arm around him. Mesut still stared at him with a dreamy look on his eyes while Sergio started to rub his come off his cheeks and chin with his fingers.

 

“You okay, baby?” he gently asked and Mesut nodded as if he was in trance.

 

Sergio sighed and tried to pull his own pants and boxers up, Mesut’s eyes were still following him. He shook his head and pulled the other man close and kissed him, deep but gentle. He pulled off, looked into Mesut’s huge, tired eyes, and smiled a little. Mesut managed to mirror his action and gave him a peck on his lips.

 

“ _Gracias_.” Mesut mumbled dreamily.

 

“No. Not yet.” Sergio replied with a low voice, “Once we get home, I will properly devour you like I’ve never before. You just wait and see.”

 

*


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mesut got the courage to initiate something new and things quickly go to a whole new level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What inspired me to write this chapter: https://xdress.com/product/view/X407
> 
> I haven't been thinking about this theme for a long time until recently, so here it is.
> 
> It feels awkward since I've been writing mostly smut and more smut. I just couldn't stop this from happening, on one side this feels stupid, but!!!!
> 
> A a few weeks ago I also drew some Serzil, but since my editing and drawing skills are way too horrible to show off, I'm just gonna put this here.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, I gotta hurry and write Mesut's birthday fic, no? *scampers off*

Another victory, another flight, and home, finally Mesut could sleep in his own bed while. And of course Sergio was right; he was called to go on after Kaka and the coach seemed to be pleased with his performance. Mourinho did not let them off before talking about the preparation for the match against Barcelona of course. Though tired, the whole team was pumped with optimism and he let them go with one day off. It felt so good as Mesut plopped onto his bed and kicked his boots off. He took a shower today earlier before they left the hotel and he didn’t feel like to take another one, he was too lazy even to crawl towards his closet to change. Usually he wouldn’t even let himself touch the bed before changing his clothes and wash his face, maybe today was an exception.

 

Thinking about self-sanitary, he remembered Sergio’s hotheaded action on their last game with Deportivo and smiled. They hadn’t got the chance for some quality time afterwards, he also noticed that the man was too tired to even give him a goodnight kiss when they departed in the parking area. He wouldn’t admit it openly, but he thought it was very sweet of a man who refused to be in any kind of what people call official relationship to do such a thing. He had been thinking of that for some time now and he could understand why Sergio was not too keen on that kind of thing. He agreed that he needed no label to call themselves; their relationship was already past the dating stage (or, rather, they actually skipped that part). They were not exactly boyfriends for the extent of their own sexual exploration, not exactly fuck buddies because, well, what kind of fuck buddies fix one another’s breakfast, really? To call themselves lovers might not be overrated, but still…why do they need to label themselves, really?

 

Mesut, personally, liked to think that they were not closeted gay footballers. From his teammates and friends, at least. He did like girls; he had his fun with them and enjoyed it before Sergio cornered him in the shower. That was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him, seriously. He knew Sergio fared with girls before. Only after they had sex he found out that the Spaniard had his fair share of boys too, footballers and not, and he bore them no longer than a week, maximum. It was not a surprising thing to hear; a man as gorgeous as Sergio would find no difficulties in having anyone he would want, the surprising part was that the defender hadn’t ditched him after three months (or was it four? ). He did ask why did he keep him around and Sergio only shrugged with a grin, “maybe you’re a keeper”, he remembered him said.

 

Sergio was not a man of words ( _proper_ romantic words), Mesut noticed, he was more to a man of action. He spoke through his actions and it did not take too much time for Mesut to find it endearing and, as subtle as it was, romantic in a way. As gay as he might had been, he was fed up with words lately. He had been getting them too much for his own good with none of them turning into a real thing even to the least. He could relate to Sergio that way; living their lives was something that makes one demands sincerity and up to this point, his mother, sisters, and teammates were the only ones who could provide him such a thing and he really appreciated them for that.

 

Action. Yeah, he would totally buy that and he had learnt to give that. Getting up from his bed, he skipped his steps towards his closet and opened it. He rummaged for an untouched box he got from Marcelo and Pepe the first year he moved here, a real good April Fool’s prank really, and he got no heart to spoil the fun and the box became a permanent, neglected resident of his closet. His eyes brightened upon finding it and he pulled it out carefully and opened the box.

 

He could feel his cheeks reddened at the sight of what was inside the box. Marcelo and Pepe were good-natured, sweet people of course, and they meant no harm though he almost did cry if Pepe didn’t break into laughter quick enough and Marcelo came clean with matching laughter. Now he found it useful, he would very like to thank them, but he refrained the thought since it might be a great idea for next year’s April Fool. Grinning, he put the box at the foot of his bed and reached for his cellphone.

 

*

 

First-times were always nerves-wrecking and his first time to make such a plan for Sergio was just as bad if not a little worse. He had been restless since he woke up to Sergio’s reply for his text message last night, saying that he’d come over. It felt like he was going to their first date, but not. It was never a date between them and Mesut had grown accustomed to that. There was no pressure because Sergio always backed him up anytime and anywhere (that thing with him topping Sergio doesn’t count, at least for him), but this time he felt like to take things into his hand for once. He had been having this urge to please the older man in his own ways since Deportivo. He wondered if Sergio was as anxious as he was for the past three months. He always found something to please or to make the German swoon, writhe, pin over him.

 

He wondered and wondered throughout his breakfast, would Sergio like this? What if he was against the idea of…this? Mesut sometimes found it pleasant, but what if Sergio did not? His train of thoughts was unstoppable, but he was determined and it was impossible for him to change his mind anyway. If Sergio would not be pleased with this, then he’d find something else that would please him. _Anything_.

 

He had showered, he had prepared everything, and he just needed Sergio to be here as soon as possible. It was almost three when he heard sounds from his foyer and a minute later, Sergio showed up in his black shirt and jeans. Mesut almost sighed in relief to notice that he got less hair gel in his hair today.

 

“Baby.” He grinned to see the German slouched on the couch in the living room, sauntered over, and plopped down on the remained empty space. Mesut sat up and crawled over to kiss him on his lips, deeply. “I’ve missed you.” He said when they broke the kiss.

 

“Me too.” Mesut smiled and moved to nuzzle the tattoo behind Sergio’s ear; he loved that tattoo very much though he did not understand what it means. It looked so sexy on the Spaniard and he licked it gently, earning a hum from the older man. Chuckling, he gave it a peck and pulled off, much to Sergio’s disdain.

 

“Come here you…” he reached out, but Mesut did not move. “Really? I’ve been missing you so bad, I came all the way here, and you’re just gonna’ sit there and watch me sexually frustrated for the rest of the evening?”

 

Mesut laughed and bit his lower lip in a way that made Sergio’s cock twitch. Mesut was different today (and also the other day in Amsterdam). He looked so sexy in a way the Spaniard couldn’t describe, as if he was dripping with pheromone or something; it sounded funny but in reality, it was not. Sergio was practically _dying_ to strip the man and have him way right there and then, yet as Mesut (possibly teasingly) shook his head, he could not help it but to obey. He felt like Mesut had learnt that he had such a dangerous control over him by now, not that he’d admit that, but he sure seemed like it.

 

“Listen.” Mesut started, “I…I think this is stupid, but…maybe it’s not so after all. This is my first time to try such a thing, so if you laugh, I’ll kick your balls, okay?” he flushed, but did manage not to waver.

 

Sergio looked confused, “What-?”

 

“Shush. Just…look.” Mesut chewed his lip; he couldn’t stop that though he knew Sergio would know how nervous he was. He then got up from the sofa and stood before Sergio’s, kicking his legs apart to stand in-between them. Sergio was looking up at him quizzically, but he did not say anything.

 

Mesut took a deep, deep breath and ran his hands to the buckle of his jeans. He could feel Sergio’s bulging eyes followed his hands, but the man kept his mouth shut, only until Mesut fumbled with it and successfully unbuckled it. His mouth started to part open when Mesut carefully slid the jeans down to his knees slowly but not to tease, more because he was a little unsure. When he was done, he believed he had never seen Sergio so surprised but eyes so dark and he saw that familiar tent on his jeans. He took them as good signs and as he was done with the jeans now pooled around his knees, he pulled up his own tee and revealed his torso. Sergio’s eyes ran up to his tummy and chest, his eyes were hungry and his tongue wetted his lips.

 

“Do you like it?” Mesut’s voice was now a whisper.

 

Sergio’s mouth went dry in disbelief. How could someone _not_ love it? He did not know where to start, but his gaze went back up to the white, lacey garter belt secured high around Mesut’s middle, almost blending in with his pale complexion with a tiny white bow right under his bellybutton. Underneath the lacey garter, he had simple clean and white panties that practically squeezed him inside. Sergio almost moaned at the translucent material that almost showed him everything that he was familiar with underneath, but not quite. The German’s thighs were wrapped in tight white stockings secured to the garter’s straps and it made the Spaniard’s mouth water at how fitting it was on Mesut. He could feel himself twitching and hard in a record time at the breathtaking sight. What exactly-

 

Mesut pulled his tee down to cover up, his cheeks flushed darker than before, “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

 

“…Are you fucking kidding me?” Sergio almost croaked. His cock was already so hard it was painful. “You are _gorgeous_. Beautiful as fuck.” He muttered; his eyes never left Mesut’s peeking thighs, “You look fucking amazing. Shit.” He bit his lower lip and almost freaked out as Mesut moved to pull his jeans back on. “No! Stop!” He lunged forward and grabbed both Mesut’s wrists, a little harder than he intended to, but the German only stared at him in shock rather than in pain. “Don’t. Just…take those off. Your top too.” He looked at them as if they were offensive, “Fuck, I never even want to see them on you anymore.”

 

Mesut chuckled, “Let me go then, _se_ _ňor_ , so I can do my work.”

 

“Oh. Shit. No. Wait. Let me…” he released one of Mesut’s wrists and pulled the younger man’s jeans down, pressing his cheek to the lacey side on Mesut’s thigh and Mesut could’ve sworn he heard the defender purred. He stepped out of the jeans and Sergio looked back up at him.

 

“I still need my hands to remove the tee, babe.” Mesut grinned.

 

Sergio growled and released his other wrist, impatiently watching as Mesut pulled his tee off and dropped it to the floor. He stood there with a shy smile, bare and open, only with those fragile stuffs wrapped around his lithe body strategically to tease Sergio. He was a damn good cock-teaser, but Sergio could enjoy his advances another time. Now, he really needed to fuck this beau.

 

“Come here.” He whispered lowly, but Mesut shook his head.

 

“You come here.” The German took a step back and grinned at him.

 

“Really!?” Sergio groaned.

 

“I just have this room cleaned, okay?” he took another step towards the stairs, flashing his pert butt squeezed in the panties on purpose and it worked as Sergio got up from the sofa with a pout.

 

“Talking about cleaning; you and your skills of dirty-talk.” He mumbled.

 

“Besides,” Mesut patiently added as he walked in slow, measured steps towards the stairs, eyes still on Sergio, “You don’t want to see carpet burns on my knees when I put something like this on again next time, do you?”

 

Something snapped in Sergio’s head and when he realized it, Mesut was already running up the stairs while laughing and he growled. He quickly strolled towards the stairs and climbed up quickly, skipping two steps at once with some certain difficulties. He then stalked towards Mesut’s bedroom with long strides and went in while fumbling with his own shirt buttons. Mesut stood by the bed with a teasing smile was playing on his lips.

 

Sergio walked in, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt buttons with his eyes never leaving his teammate’s. Once he got near, Mesut ran his hand through the gap of his unbuttoned shirt, sliding over his tattooed ribs gently. Sergio trailed the side of his face with soft kisses, he tried to restrain himself as Mesut slid the shirt off of his torso, caressing his skin as if it was made of silk. When his shirt dropped on the floor, it was not easy to stay idle and he pulled Mesut into his arms, kissing his lips roughly. He shuddered at the reactions of Mesut’s body, he just started to grind his hips against his with a lewd moan. He just had to bite the German’s silky tongue.

 

“How do you want it…?” Sergio breathed hotly against his lips, his half-lidded eyes locked with Mesut’s.

 

“ _Any_ way you want it.” Mesut replied.

 

Sergio could feel his cock became painfully hard at that; he had been doing things to this man but he did not understand why he never gets tired of him. Mesut was incredibly beautiful for him and his body seemed to keep more and more secret every time he touched it. It had been months and he hadn’t feel bored, he could actually feel something swells up in him whenever he sees Mesut, whenever the younger man smiles at him. It was weird, the feelings were foreign, but oddly it made his heart beat quicker than having him underneath him, writhing. It wasn’t that he did not enjoy the good, old fun both were having on bed though it was different and it actually started to feel only so much better.

 

“On your tummy, babe.” He whispered.

 

Mesut crawled onto the bed and laid on his stomach, expectantly waiting for Sergio. He heard rustles of clothes and as he glanced back, Sergio already dropped his jeans and underwear to the floor. He climbed onto the bed and hovered above Mesut, admiring the sight of his back and ass before he closed in the gap and kissed the younger man’s bare neck. The German shuddered, his dick twitched in the panties and Sergio carried on with the ministration. Mesut started to whimper. He couldn’t believe how turned on he was just by Sergio’s gentlest touch and kiss, he was so easily overwhelmed even by the Spaniard’s presence. He knew he wanted to go slowly, but he felt like he wouldn’t be able to endure.

 

“On your knees.” Sergio again breathed, this time against his ear. He moved onto his knees, arms trembling as he tried to support his body and Sergio ran his fingers on his ribs, counting them with feather-like touches. Mesut cried as Sergio’s fingers tentatively glided to his chest and a finger flicked his nipple. His breath came out hitched, the other Sergio fondled his muscled breasts, stroked and pinched the erect nipples, making the midfielder mewl in pleasure. His cock was dripping when he started to grind with Mesut’s ass, his breath labored and he moaned into the younger man’s earlobe, licking the shell slowly. “On your back now…” he panted, “Show me all of you.”

 

Mesut despised that Sergio’s hands had to leave his body, but he rolled over and looked up at Sergio. The man was panting; he was as handsome as ever unshaved. His short hair mussed, he seemed to forget to put on his favorite hair gel, and he looked so adorable and sexy all in the same time. Mesut sighed as he ran his hand on the Spaniard’s wide torso, tracing every single tattoo he could see, his muscles rippled as he breathed; he was beautiful the German could cry. How come Sergio desired him so?

 

“I…” Mesut paused. He knew exactly what he was going to say next, but he did not want to spell it out just yet. Or ever. Sergio was Sergio, he did not want to change the man he had come to adore so much, so he swallowed the words and took a hold on the older man’s tattooed wrist. It was not tight, nor it was loose, but Sergio followed where his hand led his and Mesut brought him to his crotch and bucked up at the contact. “Touch me, baby…” he gasped.

 

Sergio soon fondled the bulk in the panties, stroking it gingerly, tracing the familiar shape, and watched as it leaked and stained the clean satin fabric. He thought he was going to burst merely by watching, the German was writhing underneath his touch and soaking the garments like a little needy slut Sergio usually addressed him as. As weird as it sounded though, the beautiful footballer only looked even more divine like this. His chest heaved up and down as he breathed constantly, lips parted to pour out obscenities, and his hips started to move against his palm. For the first time in their relationship. He was overwhelmed with the control he just realized had over this gorgeous German; it was almost frightening. He cried as he ground his leaking cock against Mesut’s thigh, smearing his pre-come on the smooth skin. He could not wait any longer.

 

“Put it in…?” Mesut asked timidly, unlike how he had sounded begging for the past few months and Sergio was on his knees. The Spaniard pulled the panties slowly off, his eyes were gleaming at the sight of Mesut’s dripping cock sprung out of its confines. He pulled the garment down to the top of the white stockings and pulled the German’s legs up, one of his hands crept down the younger man’s ass and slipped one finger inside of him only to find him wet.

 

“Mes…?” he gave the younger man a questioning look and the younger man flushed a tone deeper.

 

“I…I prepared myself…” he mumbled.

 

Sergio bit his lower lip; this man would be the end of him.

 

Gently he spread the cheeks, led his erection to the hot, tight hole, and gasped as he pushed in easily. He bit his lip to hear the sounds the German was making; Mesut had his eyes closed and his body strained at the slick pleasure his body embraced easily. His cheeks were red just like the rest of him, all flushed and damp with perspiration. A few strands of hair stuck on his forehead when Sergio looked into his face; he was already in up to the hilt and yet there was no sign of pain on his teammate’s expression, not even a little. It was beautiful to see the younger man drowning purely in bliss he actually caused.

 

Without words or warning, Sergio started to move in languid, gentle movement that caused Mesut to throw his head back in a long mewl. He reached to his knees and almost bent his body in half, pulling his knees close to his own chest to feel more of Sergio. The Spaniard grasped tightly on his thighs, watching himself slid easily in and out of the reddish tight cleft, his sweat dripped down from his chin and he closed his eyes as he moved a little faster. He wanted this to last, he wanted Mesut to properly feel him, to properly feel good _because_ of him. He could fulfill his own dominance and Mesut’s masochistic desires later, at this moment nothing matters; it was only him and Mesut, moving in an amazing synchronicity.

 

Mesut babbled in mixed the languages he speaks in, moving his body in strained and limited but enough movements to make himself groan as the older man hit his prostate over and over again. He tried to get the older man to move faster, but it was as tricky as hell to get the vocabularies when Sergio was pounding into him languidly, precisely like he had never before. It was hard, steadily pacing up, but not enough to make the younger man come. His own pre-come dripped onto his tummy, rubbing against his own thighs, it felt good. So, very good, but he’d gone mad if Sergio would keep it up like this.

 

He squealed in surprise when he felt a big, callused hand wrapped itself around his dick and started to pump. The pounding got faster and harder, it was impossible to stay like that any longer and he closed his eyes at the hot, burning heat in the pit of his stomach, breathing became hard and he practically panted until he heard hoarse, deep voice talking to him; “Come for me, _amor_ , call my name.”

 

Just like that, Mesut screamed out his teammate’s name, loud enough to deafen his own ears and his mind went blank as pleasure surged throughout his body. It was so intense, he couldn’t think, but his lips did not stop moving, tongue sliding out something that felt familiar yet foreign and his mind went blank once again as he felt hot, sticky warmth spurted into him, deep within, marking him. His body shuddered and he felt his lips trembled as he called out the familiar name, non-stop, chanting it like a mantra over and over again, followed by a phrase. A Spanish phrase that was unfamiliar on his tongue, but he knew he had been wanting to use it, to voice it out specially at the Spaniard, so he repeated it, again and again.

 

“...Sergio... _amor...te amo... bebé_...Sergio... _me encanta_...”

 

“ _Te amo demasiado, bebé_.”

 

He did not expect a reply but he heard it. He heard it right, he knew it wasn’t his imagination. He opened his eyes to find Sergio was removing the remained articles off his body before he crawled up to lay next to him and placed a kiss on his forehead. He blinked and looked at the older man’s face almost in disbelief.

 

“Shush now.” Sergio looked at the innocent tired face before him, smiling, “Just know that I love you now and stay close, okay?”

 

“I like that.” Mesut grinned and kissed Sergio’s lips. Everything that he had been thinking about evaporated into thin air just as Sergio wrapped his arms around him. With labels or not, none of them actually cared.

 

*


End file.
